


Ardent

by percywinchester27



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Implied Smut, Pride and Prejudice References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:07:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26600377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/percywinchester27/pseuds/percywinchester27
Summary: Dean comes up with a way to help the reader sleep better and she uses that to tell him how she really feels. Will it work?
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	Ardent

It started out very innocently, and only because it slipped past your lips as a drunken confession one night, when you had been celebrating a successful hunt in a rundown bar. Dean had asked you why you stay up at night, to which you had innocently blurted out the truth- that you had always had trouble falling asleep.

And when he had asked if there was a solution to it, you had blabbered that too. That sleep came easily when someone read out to you. It had started as a kid, when you mom read out stories to you- not fairy tales, but the badass ones that she had written herself. One where the dragon wasn’t keeping the princess prisoner, instead he was her friend and he was helping her stay away from the proud prince who didn’t deserve her. They were stories about warrior maidens who were fierce on the battle field, but also just and kind to her subjects. You had loved them.

Later in college, even though your roommate found it funny, she would read out course books to you and you would be out within a few minutes.

But times changed, and your life wasn’t as pretty or naive anymore. You had seen the reality behind the happy tinted veil- that monsters and creatures beyond your imagination existed, and it wouldn’t take them more than a minute to tear down your entire world- just like they had.

With this truth came nightmares, and the sleep that was already scarce, sometimes evaded you completely. Only, there was no one left to read out loud to you. No, they were part of your nightmares now, as they were brutally snatched away from you.

The one good thing that had come out of this was meeting the Winchester. It was getting to fall in love with Dean. It was getting to live your best with him by your side. The only problem was that each moment next to him was marred by a the quiet sense of regret that your love was unrequited.

You didn’t blame Dean in the least, because if he didn’t know that you loved him, he couldn’t very well return it, right? You didn’t even try to let him know, so, no point holding it against him, but God, you wanted him to just read it out of your head how utterly in love with him you were.

The fact that he was the most caring man in the world didn’t help your case either. When he found out about your sleeplessness, he offered to read to you. Which was how you found yourself in your bed, tucked in properly within fluffy blankets, with your head resting in his lap. Dean fussed over which book to read, which was a first world problem really, because how were you to tell him that by being so close to him, you weren’t going to get any sleep anyway. Never mind that your heart was trying to beat out of your chest.

But sleep did come. As he read out loud from a Kurt Vonnegut book, his deep voice alluring and lulling, you did find yourself nodding off and soon your heart adjusted to the rhythm of his diction and you found yourself sleeping dreamlessly for the first time in years.

It became a tradition after that. Each night he would come over, read to you and by morning you’d be rested enough to take on the world. Until one night, he was so tired that he fell asleep right besides you. That was the first morning you woke up next to Dean Winchester, your eyes opening to the light dusting of freckles on his nose and the perfect shadows that his long lashes cast on his cheek. He _was_ perfection. That was also the day you decided you were going to tell him how you felt. You had to, because the alternative of living your whole life with that secret buried in your heart was too painful to even consider.

The idea came to you just as quickly and the following evening you handed him your favorite love book - Pride and Prejudice.

Dean was skeptic. “You really want me to read this?”

“You should try it. It’s pretty awesome, you know.”

Dean laughed, looking way too reluctant. “You’re seriously gonna put me through this, kid?”

“Yep!” You crossed your fingers behind your back, hoping that the book would say it all for you.

He gave in, as always, despite his own disinterest, and as always you fell asleep before he was even done with the first chapter. Dean continued next day with little to no whining. You didn’t know if he had suddenly grown interested in the story, or if was just putting up with your tantrum, but you fervently did hope that he got your intent behind making him endure a romance novel.

So the days passed and so did the novel, and each morning you woke up in the circle of his arms. Just a little closer than yesterday, drawing his warmth and breathing the air that touched him.

That night he read, in a voice that spoke directly to your soul:

_“…In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you…”_

A tear slipped down your cheek, soaking into his pajamas.

“Are you crying?” Dean gasped, shocked.

“No,” you sniffed, trying to wipe your eyes inconspicuously. How stupid could you possibly be? Expecting Dean to see a deeper meaning into a book like ‘Pride and prejudice?’ What were you thinking?

“Hey, look at me,” Dean said, gently shaking you, but you pushed your face deeper against his body.

His fingers found your hair and lightly carded through it. “I love you, Y/N,” he breathed, unsure. “I’m no Darcy… I mean, you know I’m crap with words, but surely you can see that I can’t imagine my life without you.”

You sat up so quickly, that you hit his chin the process.

“What did you say?”

He was still massaging his chin. “I said, I love you, you crazy girl.”

That’s all you needed to hear as you crushed his lips with yours, pouring your hopeless, wordless love into it, and after a surprised second, he did the same, loving you with all he had.

Dean was right, he was no William Darcy. But he didn’t have to be, because he was Dean Winchester and he was perfectly imperfect. One of a kind. The very best. And right then, he was yours. How many people were that lucky? 

The answer presented itself quickly. No one, except you.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is golden! Please tell me what you think :)


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